Alone No Longer
by peddlergirl
Summary: The Winchesters show up on your front doorstep exhausted, hurt, and starving. And the monster they were hunting is not far behind.
1. Cold

I swung the door open to reveal two bulky and miserable shivering forms standing in the snow drifts on my porch. "Get your butts in here! Where the hell have you two been holed up?! I haven't heard from you in months – and why aren't you wearing real coats?!" I hustled them into the cabin and parked them by the crackling fire. "Sit. You both need to warm up and get something hot in your bellies. Lucky for you I have a fresh pie coming out of the oven in ten minutes."

Dean dropped back into the couch and moaned. "Lord, woman, you have the best timing in the world."

"Thanks, Shiloh," Sam said softly, his hazel eyes shadowed. "It's good to see you."

I studied them more closely and noticed that they both had weeks' worth of scruff on their faces and Dean hadn't settled back into the couch as much as collapsed. Exhaustion had lined both their faces since the last time I had seen them. "Rough week, boys?"

Dean just closed his eyes and I grew concerned. No snappy comeback? No lighthearted remark? That took it from a rough week to downright shitty.

Sam mustered up a weak smile. "Let's just say that warming up by the fire sounds like heaven."

I shooed him closer to the flames. "I've got plenty of wood on the porch. We'll keep her roaring all night long."

Dean hummed deep in his chest, his lack of movement causing me more concern. I bustled into the kitchen and warmed up leftover beef stew and served them up heaping bowls. I dug around in my cabinets until I found cider and poured them each a mug that after a quick 30 seconds in the microwave, filled the air with a sweetly spicy tang. I juggled everything on a tray and quickly made my way back to the living room, afraid they would fall asleep before I could feed them. Sam had stretched out on the floor in front of the fireplace, having shed layers down to a damp white Henley. Heaps of flannel were bunched up under his head and his big hands were tucked underneath to create a lumpy pillow. His lightweight jacket was hung on the fire screen and steam was rising from the soaked fabric. Dean hadn't moved, sprawled across the greater part of the couch with one leg stretched out, his head pressed back between the cushions. He hadn't even gotten out of his thin jacket yet.

"Boys," I said softly, setting the tray on the side table. "Dinner's up."

Sam struggled awake, making sleepy noises that had me biting back a soft smile. He had made those noises as long as I could remember. Dean didn't stir. "Sam, are you both all right? Anything I need to know about?" I felt bad using my no-nonsense voice when they were both so stripped of defenses.

Sam looked up at me blearily, setting his flannel pillow to the side. "Um … 'm fine but Dean? I don't really know. He's wearing his favorite shirt."

Took me a second to process that one. A quick glance at Dean showed that beneath his ever-present leather jacket he had on his dark red flannel. _Shit._ He only wore that shirt when he was hiding blood. Setting my teeth and knowing he was not going to be happy with my attention, I settled beside him on the arm of the couch. "Dean." I said firmly, trying to rouse him from sleep. Both of them could pass out within moments but were usually light sleepers. For them to both be this exhausted meant that they had been on high-alert far too long. For neither of them to be quickly alert was dangerous. "Dean, wake up." I ran my fingers through his hair. It was shaggy and getting long on top, even the sides were drooping to touch the top of his ears. He hated when it touched his ears. I let my touch drift down and I booped the tip of his nose. His face scrunched, jerking away from me and I couldn't hold back a smile. He hated that too. I did it again, leaning closer to whisper in his ear. "Dean, Sam's going to eat the last piece of pie if you don't—"

Dean jerked awake and glared at me in befuddlement. "Don't let Sam eat all the pie. That's just mean."

I reached out and ran my hand down the side of his scruffy face, letting the rasp of his almost-beard drag against my fingertips. "You need a shave. And a haircut." I cast a look at Sammy and found him sitting cross legged still on the floor but he had managed to drag over his bowl of stew and was shoveling it in like he hadn't eaten in days. "You both do."

Sam looked at me in affront, life starting to come back into his gaze as the warmth seeped in. "Don't come near me with your scissors."

I lifted an eyebrow at him archly. "What are the house rules?"

Sam gave me a mournful look but answered. "If we don't take care of ourselves, you will."

"Darn straight."

"That's more of a threat than a promise," Dean grumbled. "But unfortunately, for Sam, that's what his hair looks like when it _is_ taken care of."

I looked closer and noticed that even with the bit of extra length, Sam's hair did appear to have been cut sometime in the past few months. "Fair enough. But you sir," I shook a finger at Dean who frowned sleepily, "are getting a haircut before you walk back out that door. For now, though, we need to get you both dried out and warmed up. So come on, quit lollygagging and strip."

Both of their eyebrows flew up. "Shiloh, seriously—?" Sam protested.

I got to my feet giving them my sternest look. Damn but they were both adorable. Like pouty little boys. "You both show up on my door half frozen, exhausted, and starved. Neither one of you are taking care of yourselves and nothing is going to convince me you're both in one piece but to see it with my own eyes. Besides, I need to throw your clothes in the dryer. I assume you _do_ have an hour or two to wait for them to dry?" I buried the hope in my gut that I could convince them to stay longer. This cabin got awful quiet in the winter.

"Oh, toasty warm clothes fresh from the dryer …" Dean moaned dreamily. "I'm down with that."

Sam eyed me from his spot on the floor. "Come on, you aren't really going to make us strip down, are you?"

"I most certainly am. Usually one of you is of sound mind and body and can explain to me what needs attention, but right now I wouldn't believe either one of you." I waited for either of them to pipe up but the room was quiet and I softened my tone. "I've never seen you both this worn down."

"We're all right, aren't we, Sammy?" Sam was already buried back in his stew and Dean ran a hand through his scruff, tilting his head against the back of the couch to watch me closely. "Just thought since we were in the neighborhood that we could swing by and see how _you_ were doing."

I snorted. "Right."

"Besides," he flashed me a soft grin that made me melt, "your pie is to die for."

I raised my eyebrows. "You want pie? Then strip."

"Sounds dirty when you say it like that," he waggled his eyebrows, his voice still just a shade raspy from sleep.

I rolled my eyes. "Only you, Dean, could make the fact that you both have frostbite and are almost hypothermic about sex."

He just grinned and I waited patiently for him to make a move. He eyed me expectantly. "Well, you're not going to stand there and watch, are you? I mean, we do have our modesty to think of. You're only what, two years older than Sammy? And like a year and a half, two years younger than me?"

I just raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you think I'm going to do? Swoon at the sight of your bare chest? Come on, Dean. It's nothing I haven't seen before."

"Who knows what could happen! You're stuck up in this cabin all alone… maybe you've turned into one of those man-hungry psychos who can't control themselves around good-looking young men. We would never know until it was too late!"

I snorted. "That's sick, Dean." It had always been like this between us. It started when I was nine years old and thought I was God's gift to the ragged and standoffish Winchester boys. They lived in our small town for ten months that year. The Impala had broken down and my father was the only mechanic in town. John refused to let anyone else touch his car but had worked out an arrangement with my father to get the parts he needed and access to the necessary tools. There were a lot of conversations behind closed doors between John and my father. Had I been older I would've known to pay closer attention to the tension between them, but my only concern had been that Sam and Dean needed mothered. Badly. They followed their dad around like shadows and their eyes had seemed to get darker by the day so at the sage age of nine and three quarters, I had decided God had appointed me their caretaker. And now, fourteen years later, I still felt the same.

"Come on." I clapped, getting to my feet. "Quit messing around. If you don't get out of the wet stuff you're both just going to get sick. So. Wet clothes off- _now_."

"All right, all right, no need to get pushy." Dean grumbled, moaning loudly as he rolled to his feet. He shrugged out of his jacket stiffly and toed off his boots, pulling frozen socks off his feet. His toes were a little blue but he wiggled them stiffly and relief settled in my bones. No frostbite. He wadded up the socks and handed them to me with a grin before starting to flop back on the couch.

"Not so fast!" I barked and he froze, coming back to his full height. Damn but he had gotten even taller. He towered over my five foot three by nearly ten inches now. "Shirt, pants, all of it, Dean. I refuse to let you get sick on my watch-"

"Assault, assault!" Dean protested halfheartedly.

"Might as well give in gracefully," Sam said in amusement, quickly shucking his Henley and jeans, passing me the bundle along with the flannel he had been sleeping on. I tossed him a fleece blanket and he wrapped it over his blue boxers with a shiver.

The clothes were soaked clean through, the bottom of his jeans caked in snow and ice. I ran my gaze over his long muscled frame, skimming over all the bruises in search of blood and open wounds. Relief settled in when he appeared to be in one piece. I checked his hands and feet for any signs of frostbite but his coloring looked good and he was moving easily despite the fact his right ankle was rapidly swelling now that his shoes were off. He saw me focus in and he winced a little as if he had forgotten that his ankle was the size of a softball. "It's fine, Shiloh. I just stepped in a fox hole and—"

My attention narrowed. "There's no fresh water for miles, Sam. The only foxes around here are down by the Callahan property. How far did you guys hike?"

Sam darted a glance at Dean who quickly donned a playful grin. "Come on, Shi, it wasn't that far. Besides, you know we're used to the nature … thing."

I gritted my teeth. "Where's the Impala, Dean? I know she couldn't make it up these hills in the snow." Damn. Why hadn't that occurred to me? The last set of hills she could've managed was about ten miles down the mountain. And that ten miles stretched into fifteen if you hiked following the roads.

"Don't get yourself worked up. We're here. In your cabin, already warming up and thawing out and you're about to feed me the most delicious pie in this whole world. So let's not argue. I'll even give in to your request for my clothes though I _will_ fight you if you try to take advantage of my weakened state. And we really should discuss your habit of requiring that your guests strip for you. It's kinky."

I glared at them both. Seriously? They just wanted me to laugh at their little jokes and pretend this was fine? I turned on my heel and took all of Sam's clothes to the laundry room, slapping them wetly on the washer. Damn them both. Didn't have a lick of sense between them—

The timer started buzzing for the pie and I hurriedly got Sam's clothes going in the dryer before hustling into the kitchen. I slipped on oven mitts and opened the oven door, filling my small cabin with the glorious smell of hot cherry pie. I heard Dean come in behind me as I slipped the pie onto the cooling rack and bumped the oven shut with my knee. The drag of a blanket along my kitchen floor warned me he was coming into my personal space just as he slipped his arms around my waist, pressing a soft kiss on the top of my head. "I'm sorry, sunshine. Don't be mad. We're both fine—"

I jerked away from his frigid skin, trying not to snap at him. "Just go warm up for cripes sake. There's stew and cider on the end table if Sam hasn't eaten it all—"

His hands settled on my hips and he halted my tug away from him. His green eyes were sharp, their playfulness all but gone. "Shiloh."

"You're out of luck if you don't like stew, there's not much else ready in the fridge-"

"Hush a minute."

I hesitated, unsure how to interpret the fierceness in his gaze.

"Just …" He reached up and brushed my hair out of my face. "Take a breath. Sam and I are fine. We survived and we burned the thing that had us pinned down, okay? We're here, in one piece, and there's nothing worth you fretting over, all right?"

I clenched my jaw, just staring up at him. Pinned down? How long had they been pinned down for before they tried hiking up a mountain? What if they had gotten turned around out there? What if the Impala had broken down somewhere that they couldn't walk for help? They were both ready to drop as it was. Wordlessly, I fretted with the edges of the blanket, tugging and adjusting it to fit around him more tightly. Goosebumps broke out on his skin as the back of my fingers rubbed over the tattoo on his chest. I brushed my finger over the pebbled skin absently as I tried to soothe myself with the fact that he was here, now, standing in front of me.

"Hey," he rasped softly and I dragged my eyes to his. "…Can I have some of that pie now?"

I slapped his chest lightly and stepped out of his grasp. "I'm still not happy with you."

"But you're not mad anymore, right? You won't be cruel and withhold fresh, hot, melt-in-your-mouth-delicious," he stopped to swallow longingly, "cherry pie, will you?"

"Go warm up," I admonished, giving him a little shove on his blanketed back. "I'll bring it to you."

They had both fallen asleep again in the few minutes it had taken me to plate the gooey dessert and pour two glasses of milk. Sam had reclaimed the floor space in front of the fire, stretched out on his belly with his blanket dropping low on his massive back. He shifted uncomfortably and I came to a dead stop when the blanket slid to reveal a nasty looking gouge just beneath his shoulder blade. He hadn't shone a bit of discomfort earlier which unfortunately meant he had gotten so used to it hurting that he wasn't noticing it anymore. Sighing, I set the pie on the end table and went and gathered my supplies. Damn boys thought they were bulletproof. Dean started to snore behind me as I settled beside Sam, stroking his shoulder soothingly as he shifted again in his sleep.

"Just me, Sammy. I'm going to clean you up a bit but you just go right ahead and sleep. Dean's got your back." He finally relaxed at that, settling deeper into slumber. They had such an odd connection to each other, I never could quite understand it.

Those first ten months we had spent together had been over much too quickly, but my father's shop was the only one for several hundred miles on a county road running right through the middle of the state. The Winchester's travels had taken them by our place every so often and John would pull in for a few hours' rest when they needed to crash. Their visits had grown more frequent as the years passed and my father had started placing regular orders for Impala parts so we could keep their pride and joy running smoothly. This unspoken arrangement had carried on quietly for several years until one night they came bursting through our front door, John carrying a bloody Sam with a raging Dean hot on his heels. I had listened to them argue loudly for most of the night until John had finally taken off back the way they had come, leaving both the boys behind. Dean had been obsessively protective of Sam and wouldn't let me within ten feet of his injured brother. But I had been a faithful nurse, running back and forth for water and towels, needles, thread, whatever he asked for I found and brought to him. That night was crystal clear in my memory because it was the first time that Dean had called me by name. Before that I was referred to as Pipsqueak or Tagalong. But that night had changed everything between us.

Sam groaned in his sleep as the peroxide bubbled the start of infection to the surface of his wound. I rubbed his shoulder gently, bringing my focus out of the memories and back to the task at hand. His back was inflamed but not horrible so, enough that I wanted to keep an eye on it. I cleaned it out as best I could before taping him up. I ran my hand through his hair playfully, brushing it out of his face but he didn't even twitch. I tugged his blanket up to cover his shoulders and stoked the fire back to a toasty crackle, hoping it would be enough to get rid of the chill in his bones.

My gaze finally came back to Dean. He looked like he had fallen asleep the moment he sat down, still propped upright with his head drifting slightly to one shoulder, his bony toes peeking out from beneath the blanket. I settled on the floor beside him, dragging over a blanket of my own before carefully picking up his feet and pulling them in my lap. They were still icy cold and I started rubbing them slowly, trying to get his blood flowing again without disturbing his rest. I watched the flames flicker in the fireplace for a long time, letting my touch run mindlessly over his skin. Eventually I tucked my head against his knee and closed my eyes, enjoying the toasty room and listening to the hiss and crackle of the wood burning.


	2. Surprise

"Shi." Dean's soft rumble brought me instantly awake.

"What's wrong? Is Sam ok?" I was already on my knees and leaning toward his brother when he snugged an arm around my waist and dragged me back onto the couch with him. He tumbled us both sideways to stretch out the full length of the couch and burrowed into my back. "Dean, get off me you big lug—"

"'m cold," he mumbled, tucking his face into the crook of my shoulder. "You're warm. Warm me up."

I huffed but he was conked back out before I could think of a good retort. I rolled my eyes, waiting uncomfortably for his grip to loosen but if anything he only snuggled deeper into my body heat as the moments crept by. His skin was cool against my back and I groaned silently, realizing I didn't have it in me to leave him to shiver alone. Reluctantly I shuffled back into him a bit until I found a comfortable spot to rest my head high on his arm. He sighed, his other arm tucking close against my belly. Time passed slowly as I listened to his breathing deepen. Gradually I had to admit it was sort of nice, being held so close. Calming, somehow.

I watched the flames of the fire die down until only the embers were giving off their heat. The night slowly passed and early morning light started to peep in the windows. A soft stroke on my belly brought me out of a light doze.

"Shi?" Dean murmured, his scruff rubbing against my neck. "Ha. Tol' you."

Damn it, I knew as soon as he woke up he would ruin it. I hunched and backed further into him, trying to limit his access to my undefended skin. "Told me what?" I whispered, dodging a little when he scruffed against me again.

"Told you you'd end up taking advantage of me," he rumbled.

I squeaked in protest as he rolled me on my back, his tired green eyes teasing. "What! You _made_ me come up here—"

"Made you?" His expression scrunched, his voice barely more than a rumble. "I don't think so. Last I remember you made me come in here and wait for pie—which never came by the way—"

I struggled to free my arm from our tangle of bodies and blankets. I pointed to where the pie had cooled on the end table, raising my eyebrows in defense.

"—and then I wake up with you hogging most of the couch and stealing my blankets—"

"I did not!" I hissed before casting a glance at Sam and lowering my tone. "You, sir, don't sleep well unless you have a body to cuddle up to, don't even try and deny it."

His face scrunched in a pout.

I made sure my voice was no louder than a whisper. "Don't think I don't know you two keep plenty _busy_ on the road. It's not my fault if you're going through a dry spell—"

He winced. "I don't have dry spells—"

I poked him in the chest – which was finally warm and radiating heat – and gave him a stern look. "Oh yeah? You haven't shaved in weeks. I know you. Scruff you're okay with, but this?" I tugged on the beginnings of a beard. "You'd shave this in a heartbeat if you thought you had a chance in hell of getting lucky. Winchester's don't do beards."

Dean rolled on top of me, pushing the air out of my lungs. He braced his forearms on either side of my head and glared down at me playfully. "Dad had a beard. I could rock one if I wanted to."

"I'm just saying," I shrugged as much as I was able and he wiggled a little to settle in between my thighs, knocking one of my legs off the couch to rest on the floor. A skitter of awareness suddenly raced from the top of my head down my body and I froze, losing my train of thought. His green eyes were vibrant in the early morning light and his necklace was hanging down, the little totem resting against my collarbone intimately. I became abruptly aware of the fact that beneath the cocoon of his blanket every inch of him was bare skin except for some very snug briefs. He was warm now, his body radiating a toasty heat that started to gather and pool low in my belly. Dean seemed oblivious to the intimacy as he leaned forward to rub his nose on mine playfully.

"Trust me, sunshine, the beard is no deal breaker. There were plenty of women checking me out on our way up here. Now, Sam's mangy face on the other hand…" He let his words drift off as he turned to check on his brother who was still passed out in front of the fireplace, giving me a blessed moment to catch my breath. Son of a gun. This was awkward. I used his moment of distraction to unseat him, pushing him off me and tumbling him to the floor.

He hit the ground with a grunt. "What the hell, Shiloh!"

I ignored his questioning look, getting to my feet. My heart was beating a little too fast in my chest and I was confused. Immediately I missed the warmth of his body and I rubbed my hands along my arms, trying to brush away the feeling. I felt off balance and I didn't like it. "You're heavy, Winchester," I retorted too loudly, crossing the room and grabbing the pie off the end table.

"Hey, wait a minute – where are you taking that pie?" Dean scrambled to his feet.

"It stayed out all night, I'll dump—"

He snatched one of the plates out of my hands before eyeing me warily and making a grab for the second as well. I gave them both up without a fight. "There's nothing wrong with them. Don't take my pie, woman."

I shrugged, at a loss for words for once in my life.

Dean gave me a funny look. "Are you all right?"

"Don't make her mad, Dean," Sam said groggily from the floor. "Or at least wait until after she makes breakfast."

I latched onto the subject with both hands. "That's what you really came up to see me for, wasn't it, Sammy? Fine, guess that's all I'm good for around here. What sounds good? I've got everything in the fridge to get the whole works going." Geez, why didn't Dean put on some clothes already? With his hands full, the blanket was beginning to slip off his shoulder and there were suddenly some very intriguing curves and dips to his muscles that nearly took my knees out from under me. And the tattoo that I had run my fingers over last night was suddenly singing me a siren song, begging me to explore and see what that patch of skin would taste like. _What the hell?!_ I spun on my heel and was halfway to the front door before Sam's response filtered through the roaring in my ears.

"-fles?"

"Fine. Sounds good. I'll get started on it as soon as I get some chores done."

"Chores? Wait, I can help—"

I cut him off with an over-bright smile. "And what, undo all my hard work warming you two up? Won't take me but a few minutes and you can both still use a little breather. Sam, your clothes may be done in the dryer. Dean, yours still need to go in. You two stay put and stay warm and I'll be back in a jiffy." I grabbed up my boots and let the door slam loudly behind me as I sucked in a lungful of icy mountain air, hoping it would clear my head. _Stop being such a dumbass, Shiloh._ Dean was like my brother. Hell, maybe he was right and living alone was starting to get to me. I had been on my own for so long that I couldn't remember the last time I had been on a date. In fact, _had_ I ever been on a date? I grabbed my ax and started around the cabin, my thoughts tumbling chaotically through my head. Dad had been sick for years before I convinced him to sell the shop and move up here. He had always talked about living in the mountains, about getting back to nature and how living in the city was ruining me. As if living in a two-bedroom house attached his mechanic garage on the back ass of nowhere was city living. Pop had always had funny ideas about things. But by the time I had convinced him to move up here, his best years were gone and he could only sit by and watch me do the things he had talked about for so long. So I had learned. Fishing, hunting, hiking … hell, I had even started wood carving because Pop would always talk about how his hold man could turn a piece of wood into a work of art. I was crap at it but I had learned.

I set a log up on my chopping block and planted my feet, bringing the ax down in a clean arc. The blade sank into the wood, splitting it cleanly in two. I tossed both pieces on the woodpile on the porch before grabbing the next log and setting it up.

Pop had passed nearly two years ago next month. In some ways it felt like I had been on my own for a lifetime, but in others it felt like just days had passed since that first quiet morning without him. I didn't regret a moment of my life. He had been sick for a long, long time and I was all he had. What did you do when family got sick? You took care of them. It was that simple. But the reality was that Pop hadn't been very fond of outsiders, with the Winchesters being the exception. Maybe that was why I had latched onto them so tightly, they were the only ones allowed in my orbit and something in their isolation had called to me. But the reality was that I had been seventeen when we moved up this mountain. The only boys I had room for in my life were Sam and Dean and precious little had changed on that front in the years since. The only times I ventured into town were for supplies, and the grocery was run by a kind wrinkled old lady and the gas station owned by two middle-aged brothers. I had gone into the larger nearby cities a few times but they had just seemed, I don't know … _loud_. And back to my little cabin in the woods I would go, each and every time. Geez, even in my own head I was starting to look like a pathetic socially awkward recluse. My life experiences might be sadly lacking but I read all kinds of books. About the world, about history, about adventures and battles and heartaches. I knew how the world worked, had watched its timeless cycles again and again through the eyes of thousands of authors. And I had come to the conclusion at the ripe age of twenty-three that I was perfectly content to spend the rest of my days in this burrow on the side of a mountain. Alone.

But if there was one thing I knew for sure after this morning's little fiasco?

Dormant hormones had snuck up on me once, and I'll be damned if I let it happen again. Sam and Dean were the only family I had left and nothing in the world was going to jeopardize that. Not some passing awareness, not the fact that I could still feel the weight of his body on mine, or the fact that the side of my neck was still tingling from the scrape of his beard on my skin. None of that mattered. Dean was family and that's all there was to it.

"Shiloh! You out here?" Sam's big clomping footsteps came around the front corner of the house just as my ax fell, sending two pieces of wood tumbling off the chopping block and into the snow.

"Right here, Sam!" I called, stuffing the remaining chaos inside me down deep.

"Shouldn't you have a coat on?" He arched an eyebrow at me, his big arms crossing over his chest. "After all that nagging about staying warm—"

I pointed my ax at him warningly. "Watch it. All my nagging has put you back together more times than I can count. And no, city boy, if you're chopping wood, a coat will just overheat you. As long as you aren't chopping down a whole tree, the cold won't get to you before you're finished."

Sam gave me a funny look. "Do you always chop your own wood?"

I snorted. "Where do you think the pile on the porch came from?"

His gaze went to the three neat rows, each six foot tall.

I gave a little shrug, tossing the pieces I had just cut on top where they fell neatly in place. "Of all the chores, it's one I enjoy the most. It helps calm my thoughts."

"Are we stressing you out?" Sam grew concerned, crunching toward me in the snow. "I know we came up out of nowhere last night. Now that the storm has passed, we'll get out of your hair. We can head back down to the Impala—"

I waved away his worry, swinging the ax deeply into my chopping block. "Shut up. I just got you two warmed up. Don't go running off on me just yet. I'm all finished here, let's get breakfast rolling."

His eyes lit in boyish glee. "Waffles and omelets?"

I grinned. "Would I dare make you anything else?"

He moaned, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. "Why do we not take you hunting with us always?!"

"Ha!" I barked. "Like that would work. You two spend way too much time in that damn car. I'd go stir crazy within a week."

He waved my objection aside. "It's roomy. You'd feel right at home in no time."

I linked arms with him and we walked together to the front door. "Lucky for you, I have my own home and my own fully stocked kitchen. And that fully stocked kitchen is about to make your dreams come true."

A sound escaped him that was somewhere between a whimper and a moan. "I've missed you, Shiloh."

I stretched on my tiptoes and grabbed him by the back of the neck, dragging him down into my hemisphere with a laugh. "I've missed you too, Jolly."

He winced. "Really? We're back to green giant references?"

I lifted a shoulder and stretched up even farther to press a maternal kiss on his forehead. "I haven't seen you in a while. I like to stick with the basics."

He was still hunched over in my grasp when the door swung open behind us, letting out a wave of heat. Dean tugged his blanket up higher and glared at us. "Will you two quit screwing around? There are starving people in here, and I can't find the rest of that pie. I know it's here. There's no way you ate six pieces of pie last night." He arched an eyebrow accusingly. "Where are you hiding it?"

I threw an arm around his neck and pulled him in for a quick smooch on the forehead, too, determined to move past my flare of awkwardness this morning. He stiffened and pulled back to look at me quizzically. I released them both quickly and sailed on into the house. "You'll never know! I've seen what happens if I leave you alone with my desserts-"

A jolt of air suddenly hit me and blew me backward into both of them. We all scrambled as a large man came barreling through my front hallway, a huge knife clutched in his meaty fist.


	3. My Home

Swearing viciously, Dean shoved me behind him before diving straight at our attacker.

Hell no. This was _my_ house. I grabbed the shotgun from beside the front door and pumped the chamber, lifting it to my shoulder and barely pausing as Sam shouted for Dean to drop. Dean hit the ground just as my blast hit the guy in the chest. He didn't even wince as his attention swung to me and I had only a second to realize his eyes were completely black before he charged.

"Demon, Shiloh! It's a demon!"

Son of a bitch. I threw my shotgun over the couch and leapt after it, diving toward the coffee table and the hidden compartment inside. The demon's knife sank into the back of my thigh and I snarled at him, twisting around to get the leverage to kick him in the face. He barely reacted, grabbing a hold of my belt and dragging me back toward him. Dean lurched into the kitchen and Sam jumped on the demon's back. They were matched for size as Sam wrapped him in a headlock but the demon barely paused as he continued hauling my flailing body toward him. Sam heaved his full weight backwards, trying to draw him off me. The demon stumbled, losing his grip for a precious moment and I threw myself back toward the coffee table. My fingers had just grabbed the hidden latch when the demon counterbalanced Sam's weight, buckling forward and clutching my feet. I kicked again as I scrambled, trying to get beneath the panel.

"Hey, you ugly son of a bitch!" Dean barked from the doorway to the kitchen, tossing a pot full of water on all three of us. The liquid ran off Sam and I harmlessly but the demon bellowed in pain, writhing away from the holy water. Sam tried to wrestle him into submission and they tumbled and rolled, the last of the holy water flinging from their twisting forms. They slammed into the grate in front of the fireplace and my heart clenched. Dean roared and threw himself into the fray. The three of them writhed and thrashed, knocking the metal grate away from the flames and someone's foot raked through the coals, flinging blazing chunks of wood across the floor.

The demon roared and the smell of burned flesh filled the room as I finally managed to get the latch open and jerk out a revolver loaded with salt rounds. " _I've got him!_ "

They both ignored me and I growled, leaping over the coffee table and trying to find a shot that wouldn't injure my boys. The demon had his hands wrapped around Sam's throat and Dean had an arm wrapped around the demon's neck, everyone's arms and legs flailing and punching and kicking, obscuring any chance at a clean shot. "Dean, _move!_ " I hollered and Dean finally looked up and saw me holding the gun. He threw himself off to the side, shouting something unintelligible to Sam. Sam choked, stretching his head back along the floor until he saw me, his hands tight against the demon's wrists, trying to break the hold. I waited until he stopped thrashing so hard before letting loose, squeezing the trigger over and over and over again, unloading five shots into the demon's head. He recoiled, dropping Sam to charge at me with a gravelly roar. Shit, shit, _shit—_ are you kidding me?!

The exorcism spell Dean started shouting barely registered as I threw myself at it, punching the damn thing in the head directly over the bullet wounds. It snarled and spit, wrapping its arms around me and driving me through the wall and into the entryway. The first convulsion wrenched through the demon as he struggled to stay inside his meat suit, Dean's loud Latin filling the air over the roaring in my ears. It recovered, slamming my head into the wall and taking us both to the ground. He rammed an elbow into my temple and I fought to get the gun up between us as we scrabbled on the floor. The pounding in my ears got louder as I tried to remember where Dean was at in the incantation. Halfway? I couldn't focus as the monster drove his fist into my face, breaking my nose. I couldn't guess, couldn't risk waiting any longer to use that last bullet in the chamber. I managed to get the gun up between us, pressing it against the bottom of his jaw desperately. I squeezed the trigger and the bullet tore through his head, spraying brain matter all over my walls. That horridly mangled face finally opened wide, black demon smoke gusting out of the meat suit and bursting through the window on my front door, sending shards of glass showering over me. The vacant form slumped on top of me, pinning me heavily to the floor.

"Shiloh!" Sam's voice finally busted through the roaring in my ears and I sucked in as much air as I could, my heart racing frantically.

"Sam –I'm ok!" My voice was muffled beneath the six-and-a-half-foot empty meat suit.

The boys scrambled over and rolled the body off me, shoving it to the side. I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the haze from my vision but instead the scent of smoke and singed flesh sent a skitter up my spine. "We have to get out of here – now!" Dean's green eyes were red rimmed and his normally gravelly voice raspy with smoke. I realized the roaring in my ears was the crackle of fire and that my entire living room was crawling with flames. Even as I watched, orange curls licked across the floor and caught the pile of blankets Dean and I had been wrapped up in this morning on fire, the greedy flame rapidly engulfing the entire couch.

"Water! Get some water!" I shoved to my feet and darted toward the kitchen, desperate to drown out the flames. My leg buckled beneath me and I stumbled, nearly hitting the floor. Dean grabbed my elbow and hauled me back up, dragging me toward the front door.

"No way! It's spreading too fast—we have to get _out_!"

"We can't let it burn!" I cried, fighting his grasp, trying to reach backward, trying to break free so I could do _something_ to stop the destruction of my home. "Let me go! I have to get the fire extinguisher – or water! Just let me get some water, Dean! We can stop it!"

"We can't! We have to go _now—_ "

Sam suddenly broke away from us, darting farther back into the house despite Dean's bellow for him to stop. I fought Dean's grip harder. If Sam could go in, so could I. "Let me go!"

"Damn it, Sam! Your ass better be coming out of there in one piece!" Dean bellowed, wrapping his second arm around my waist and dragging me backward through the destruction of my front entryway.

Sam appeared quickly, arms full. He tore past us and flung open the front door, stumbling out into the snow. "Shiloh! Come on!"

"No! The _fire_ —!"

Dean quit trying to work with me and snarled, swinging me around and up over his bare shoulder and fighting to get us to the front door. I beat against his back, watching helplessly as the curtains blazed and the flames crawled ever upward. The rafters of my tiny cabin suddenly groaned, and Dean burst through the door after Sam, his arm tight against the back of my thighs. He raced out into the yard, not stopping until he reached where Sam was standing almost 30 yards farther down the hill. He let me slide to my feet but kept his arms tight around my waist as they both watched in shock.

I fought his hold on me, unable to give up. "You can't do this! It's burning, it's all burning - I have to put it out! My dad is in there – everything of Pop's is in there! I can't let it burn!"

A sudden explosion blew through the roof, just over where I kept my gas supply for the backup generator. I went rigid and Dean's hands tightened on me. A second explosion and then a third skyrocketed, taking out the backside of the building and half of the roof and leaving the rest of the tiny building to sag drunkenly on the side of the mountain.

Fury blew through my horror, it's brightness overwhelming. "You brought that demon right to me!" I shoved away from them but Dean just absorbed the blow, keeping his grip on my hips. "How the hell could you both be so stupid-!" Sam watched me mournfully and Dean just let me fight against his hold. "That was my home, Dean! Everything I own in the entire world is in that cabin!" I choked, furious to find emotion riding so high in my throat and tears threatening. "Damn you," I stopped fighting as another section of the roof caved in, my hands clenching uselessly. "Damn you both!"

He just wrapped his arms more tightly around me and pulled me tight against him. "I'm sorry, Shi. I'm so sorry."

Icy cold air blew through my nostrils as my breaths pounded angrily in my lungs. We all watched helplessly as my small home was rapidly consumed. In less than a half hour we had gone from breakfast plans to watching all of my earthly belongings vanish into one giant puff of smoke. Dean flinched when the last section of the roof tumbled down and a hollowness opened up inside me. I slowly pushed out of his embrace and he let me go this time, albeit reluctantly. I pulled in one last smoky breath before turning my back on the burned heap, shoving down the consuming horror that threatened to take me out at the knees. I kept pressing back on that darkness, forcing it, manhandling it into submission until I could pull in enough oxygen to clear my head and assess our current situation. I locked it down tight and shifted gears, taking stock of practicalities. Sam and I still had boots on and enough layers to make do for now. Dean – I turned to get a full look at Dean and frustration flared to the surface. "What the hell is wrong with you, Dean?"

"Look, Shiloh, I'm so sorry—" His green eyes were a sea of misery and regret.

"How the hell are we supposed to get down this mountain when you're naked?"

He glanced down at himself as if just now noticing he was still only wearing a pair of boxers. He wiggled his toes uncomfortably in the snow. "Its fine, I can manage—"

Sam wordlessly passed over what he had grabbed out of my burning home. All of Dean's clothes from the dryer, even the boots that Dean had kicked off in the living room. Somehow, Sam had managed to save it all. I bit back the petty thoughts of all the things I wished I had been able to save – pictures of Pop, the first wood carving we had ever done together, the last note he had written me before he was gone – and snatched the bundle from Sam's hands. Dean's well-being was far more important than empty memories and I was disgusted with myself for feeling so petty. "You reckless, selfless, short-sighted idiot…" A string of insults continued to pour out of me as I pulled Dean's thermal shirt out of the pile and shoved the neck hole over his head, ignoring his effort to take it from me. He watched me carefully but threaded his arms through the arm holes and shook it down. I jerked his jeans free and gave them a snap, disentangling the legs and kneeling down to his feet.

"Shiloh, I can dress myself—"

"Don't you dare argue with me right now, Winchester." I tapped the side of his ankle and he muttered, stepping into the open leg holes and grabbing them from me. He shimmied them up his toned legs, zipping and snapping them briskly. I tapped his ankle again and he balked, making me growl. "Socks, Dean."

"Damn it, Shiloh, I'm sorry! I made sure we took care of the demon following us before we ever set foot on this mountain - I had no idea there was another one! But damn it, I am not _completely_ incompetent—"

I tipped my head back and glared up at him. "I'm not blaming you for this." My gaze shot to Sammy's mournful expression. "You either. I lost my temper. I shouldn't have, but I did. I'm sorry, I truly didn't mean what I said. I just—" I stopped, letting out a hard sigh. "I'm sorry. I know it's not your fault. I should've warded the cabin better. That's on me. You both were exhausted and—"

"This is not on you!" Dean snapped, running his hands through his hair. "We never should have come up here. We should've found a hotel in town and rested up, made _sure_ —"

"Look, casting blame or wallowing in it is pretty irrelevant at this point, don't you think?" I sniffed hard, ignoring the sound of another section of the cabin caving in behind me. "We need to get down the mountain, get somewhere warm. That storm that you came in on last night isn't finished and the wind chill is supposed to plummet the longer this day goes on. The sun shining and the pretty skies are a fluke and we have to get our butts in gear. So let me put your damn socks on and we can get moving."

"I'm not a child, Shiloh." Dean snarled, grabbing the socks out of my hands and shoving them on his feet and slamming them into his boots. He tightened the laces with jerky movements.

"Oh yeah? Adults take care of themselves, Dean. What the hell is this?" I got to my feet and grabbed a hold of his shirt, my fist just next to a palm sized rusty stain on his blue thermal shirt. I glared at him, more pissed at myself than anything for not paying damn attention. Sam had _told_ me that he was wearing his favorite red flannel. I _knew_ what that meant. And then I had gotten all flustered at his nearness this morning and look where the hell that had landed us. Son of a bitch. I had failed the one thing I had left – taking care of them. I held eye contact with his snapping green gaze as I lifted his shirt up his belly. He sucked in a breath as my fingers skimmed what should have been smooth skin over the base of his ribs. Instead, it was bumpy and inflamed and … wet? My gaze snapped down and saw blood on my fingers. Not a lot, not enough to make me kick his ass, but enough that I was pissed at myself all over again. "Your stitches look like shit," I snapped roughly. "When we get down the mountain I'll fix it."

"Shiloh—" Dean grunted as I jerked his shirt back down his waist.

"I said I'll fix it and I'll fix it." I glared at them both, daring them to argue.

Sam shifted on his feet. "So… how are we getting down the mountain? You still have your truck?"

"It's out of gas." I handed Dean his flannel and jacket, watching sharply until he shrugged into both of them.

Dean zipped his leather jacket with stiff fingers. "So we'll get your extra gas tank out of the shed."

"That third explosion _was_ the gas shed," I said stiffly. "So it looks like we're hiking."


	4. Down the Mountain

The wind had started whipping through the trees, making the long limbs creak and groan, distorting the sounds all around us. The farther we hiked, the heavier our steps became in the deep snow. The sky had been getting progressively darker for the past two hours and a sudden fierce gust of arctic wind sucked the last of the heat from my extremities. Woodenly, I kept walking. Ten miles. The boys had made it at least ten miles last night in a snowstorm _up_ the mountain. Hungry, exhausted, fresh from a hunt – if they could do that, surely I could manage to hike just as many _downhill_. I had nothing to complain about.

"How's your face feeling?" Sam slowed his giant steps to fall in beside me. I tried to lengthen my stride to keep from slowing him down too much.

"My face?" I peered up at him, flexing my fingers and trying to get the blood flowing again. What I wouldn't give to be wrapped up in front of my toasty fireplace with my favorite book– I slammed the lid down on that thought and forced it down deep. There was no cabin, there was no heat, and all of my books had burned. I ignored the ache in my chest, blaming it on the frigid air currently freezing the lining in my lungs. Back to the task at hand – Sam's question. "It's cold, if that's what you mean."

Sam snorted, the cloud of his breath filling the air for a brief moment before it evaporated. "I mean your nose. Looks like it might be broken."

Surprised, I ran the tips of my fingers across my nostrils. What I had assumed was a runny nose from the cold was actually blood, and it had been bleeding for a while leaving spatters all down the front of my shirt.

"You ever had a broken nose before?" Sam brushed his long brown hair out of his face, his hazel eyes filled with sympathy.

I shrugged, wiping the blood off my fingers onto the already stained fabric of my shirt. Not much I could do about it now, regardless. "No."

"They're probably the easiest broken bone to endure, if that's any consolation. The worst part is when you first get hit-after that it's just putting up with a puffy face and blurry vision. Let's have a look." He gently pulled me to a halt and tilted up my chin. His eyes tripped over my face in the growing darkness. "Looks like you'll have a decent pair of shiners tomorrow."

"Great," I huffed, briskly rubbing my arms and suddenly horrendously aware of how tender my face was feeling. I thought the cold was just making it ache.

"Dean," he called, his barely raised voice whipping around us with the wind. "Hold up a minute."

Dean came stomping back toward us, his arms tucked in his armpits and a scowl on his pale face. "What's wrong?"  
"Come look at this. That demon broke Shiloh's nose, it's setting pretty crooked—"

"Just reset it," I squinted at them both in the failing light as we all stopped still, the cold quickly settling into my bones.

"It's going to hurt," Sam warned, wincing sympathetically just at the thought.

"Don't care. Just fix it."

"Are you sure? We could wait until later, maybe wait 'til you warm up—"

Dean shouldered Sam out of the way. "Quit dragging it out, Sam. You ready, Sunshine?"

I nodded sharply. Anything to get us moving again.

"All right then." Dean stepped forward, bracing my face with broad hands and probing the swelling in my nose. His attention was focused and his breath smoked out in the icy air, the small warmth in his touch easing the ache a bit. Maybe he had the right idea, tucking his hands against his body. I had just long enough to appreciate the small comfort before he shoved his thumbs into the bridge of my nose and I heard an audible grinding crunch as it slid into place.

"Son of a _-_!" My jaw slammed shut against the tight flare of pain and my eyes watered.

"Sam warned you," Dean shrugged. "Now let's see how I did." He tilted my chin up with a soft stroke, peering at me. "That should do it. Don't run into any fists for a few days and it should heal just fine." He stepped back from me and glanced around, a gust of biting wind swirling around us. "When is that storm supposed to come through, Shi?"

I blinked away the last of the liquid in my eyes, glancing at my watch to find it had stopped hours ago. Just one more thing I was going to have to replace. "Anytime now, I'd guess."

"How much farther to town?" Sam started blowing into his hands, shifting uncomfortably against the wind.

"Still a few more miles south and that's only if we can keep on a straight path. How far is the Impala? Could we cut over and use it to go those last few miles?"

Dean rolled his shoulders, sharing a furtive look with Sam. "…It's not close. Let's just head into town and worry about the Impala later."

What the hell? That car was his pride and joy. "Dean, what happened to the Impala?"

"Nothing. Let's just keep moving—"

"Dean." I fought to keep my tone even.  
"Look, we can talk about all that later, can we just get moving, please? It's cold as a well digger's ass out here."

"No, we can't! What happ—"

Sam reached out and squeezed my shoulder. "We'll tell you about it later, Shiloh. We really should get moving." Resignation weighed down his tone and dread sank like a stone in my gut. The more I found out about this last hunt the more I worried for the boys. It was one thing when they were out hunting with John – he was a legend, one hell of a badass hunter. But the two of them alone now? I didn't like it. Not at all.

Without another word I turned away and started trudging through the snow again and they both fell in beside me. The cutting wind swept around us, numbing our faces and forcing us to huddle together as we marched onward. The boys kept me pressed between their bulk and I silently accepted their willingness to buffer me from the worst of the wind chill. We stopped trying to talk because any attempt we made was quickly swept away. Our steps crunched through the thin layer of ice that was forming on top of the snow and the farther we walked, the deeper the snow drifts seemed to get. We had barely made it another mile before the snow started coming down. It began as tiny snowflakes, driven along by the capricious wind. But it soon became a driving icy sleet, rapidly soaking through our few layers and freezing the fabric solid, slowing our progress to a crawl.

We had just reached the other end of a small valley when my left leg suddenly gave out, dumping me face first into the ice encrusted snow. Sam and Dean grunted, barely able to grab hold of my arms and try to haul me back up. Sharp stabbing pain went through my leg and it refused to hold my weight, buckling beneath me again. I fought to get upright, and realized that my thoughts were sluggish and my movements even more so. It had only been a few hours – sure, it was cold and miserable but what the hell was wrong with me?

" _Sam_!" Dean's hoarse shout was only there for a moment as he stared back at the staggered trail we had left behind. The gusting wind was already beginning to cover over our tracks but there was a distinct something that broke up the endless white around us. A long, thin trail of small bloody footprints sandwiched between two larger sets of footprints. Those little bloody footprints tracked right up to where I had fallen, and a crimson smear was left where I had hit the ground. Son of a bitch. I had completely forgotten about that bastard demon knifing me in our fight. With the cabin burning, I had shoved every emotion and outward sensation down deep. The cold had turned my body into one massive ache and I had ignored all of my discomfort in favor of pushing forward one step after another, not realizing why it had been getting progressively harder to move forward.

Sam and Dean shared a long look before Dean hit the icy snow on his knees beside me. His broad hands pressed tightly against the blood on my thigh and came away slick. He gestured to Sam who started to tear at the bottom of his flannel shirt.

"No, Sam, it's too cold—" My mumbled words were as ineffective as my stiff fingers trying to pull at his, stop their tearing progress.

He ignored me, ripping off a clean strip several inches wide. The icy crystals on it crackled and broke off as he passed it to Dean who quickly tied it tightly around my thigh. Without a word, Dean shrugged out of his leather jacket and tucked it around my shoulders. I tried to fight him, make him take it back but he tightened it around me, his numb fingers roughly working the zipper and sealing me inside. He and Sam stared at each other, talking with some sort of short hand despite the wind. Sam finally nodded and moved behind me while Dean stayed crouched in front, though he turned to put his back to me. Dean shouted something over his shoulder at me but the words were lost. God, everything was getting dark around me. My hazy gaze was feeling narrower and narrower by the second and I fought it back, determined to not let it get the best of me. I was the only one who knew the way into town. I had to get the boys through this. They were out in this storm because of me, damn it. I had to fix this.

Dean made a gesture over his shoulder and I stared at the back of his head stupidly, watching the sleet hit his hair and melt. The tips of his ears were deep red through his shaggy hair and I was oddly grateful that I hadn't had a chance to cut it yet. That extra inch of length might keep his ears just a little bit warmer. With a growl, Dean reached back and grabbed a hold of my legs, pulling me toward him.

Sam gripped me beneath my armpits and hoisted me up as Dean stood, keeping me braced against his brother. Dean fumbled with my legs, wrapping them around his waist and using his hands beneath my butt to pull me snug to his back. My brain finally clicked into gear and I realized he wanted me to ride piggyback. I wrapped my arms around his chest and pressed my face against the frigid side of his, melting the sleet on our skin between us. "Too heavy—" I protested in his ear and Dean gave a sharp shake of his head.

He turned just enough to look me in the eye and his hoarse words reached my ears before the wind snatched them away. "Hang in there, sunshine. Just a few more miles to go." He hunched over, shoving me higher on his back before ducking his head into the wind and setting off again. Sam stayed close beside us, a steady hand on my back keeping us all three huddled together. I pressed my eyes closed against the frigid air and promised myself I would stay awake. If we veered off track we wouldn't last long in this storm. There was no shelter between us and town but Dean was right – it was just a few miles. If we could just make it those last couple miles we could rest and regroup.

Surely we could make it those last two miles…


	5. The Peak

The next thing I was aware of was the world tilting as I started sliding from Dean's back. He grunted as I clutched at him, trying not to drop but Dean slowed my descent so I landed on my butt gently.

"Hey there, sunshine, how are you feeling?" His voice was raspy, much deeper than normal.

I pried my eyelids open to find him staring down at me worriedly, his face pale but cheeks flushed with wind burn. He reached out and ran an icy cold fingertip down the side of my face.

"F-frosbite?" I managed around numb lips.

"What?"

I struggled to sit upright, unable to hold back a moan of discomfort. "Frostbite?" I insisted, stiffly grabbing a hold of his hands and inspecting them. They were frigid but still pink enough to lay the worst of my concerns to rest.

"I'm fine, you loon." He growled, dropping down beside me.

A bell jangled and I realized we were sitting just inside the front doors of a dark and fairly empty building. I wasn't sure how the hell we had made it into town, but we had. Frigid wind blasted through the open door as Sam fought to get it closed behind him and I tucked closer to Dean. Sam finally wrestled it shut and dropped down on the floor beside us. We all three huddled together, beyond words as we tried to gather our spent energy and generate some heat. The air in the building was still chilly, telling me that it had been closed for most of the day. Indistinct shapes and immobile shadows showed in the dim light and the red tinge of the exit sign on the far back wall made me guess we were in The Peak, the ramshackle building that passed as a bar on the outskirts of town. I could still hear the wind whistling outside but it was blessed quiet in the darkness.

Dean blew into his hands, rubbing them briskly to try and restore the blood flow. "Well. We made it."

Sam snorted in exhaustion.

Dean's focus shifted to me with a low sigh. "We gotta get you out of those clothes, Shi. I need to see how bad your leg is."

"No way," I pushed myself up straighter, trying to infuse strength in my tone. "I'll g-get it—"

" _Shiloh_."

Damn it, he was using the no-nonsense tone when I was stripped of defenses. That was hardly fair. "Come on, Dean—"

"We don't have any blankets for her," Sam said tiredly.

"Go see what you can find, Sammy. We all need to warm up. We'll start burning chairs if we have to."

"Or we can just turn up the thermostat," Sam muttered, rising to his feet.

"Smart ass." Dean gave his legs a little push and Sam nearly toppled but managed to throw out a weak kick in return before loping off into the dark interior of the building. Dean snorted, muttering beneath his breath about Sam's snarkiness before turning his whole focus back on me. "Shi, we really do need to get you out of the wet stuff."

"Stitches." My vision was sort of graying at the edges but I figured it was just fatigue. I didn't have the faintest idea how Dean had managed to carry me those last two miles and was still managing to put coherent sentences together.

"What?"

"Stitches," I repeated tiredly, leaning toward him and grabbing the edge of his shirt, trying to lift it up to check on his shoddy patch job.

Dean pulled back, enveloping my hands in his and pulling his shirt out of my grasp. "Listen to me, sunshine. Sammy and me? We're hunters. We're used to this sort of crap. You? You've had a pretty shitty day and I'd say if ever there was a time for you to let me take care of _you—_ it's today. All right? So quit worrying about me and just focus on warming up."

"But—"

"No buts. Just do as you're told." He shot me a warning glance before kneeling stiffly at my side and untying the makeshift bandage from my thigh.

I huffed in protest but didn't have the energy to push the issue. I really was starting to feel pretty awful and the numbness from the cold was starting to fade.

"Sorry about this, Shi, but it's got to be done. I know you'll give me hell for it later." Dean's tone was anything but apologetic as he pulled out a pocket knife and cut a clean slit in my jeans at the knee. The bottoms of my pant legs were ice encrusted and he just went to the nearest patch of soaked but unfrozen fabric and started tearing. My heart stuttered unexpectedly and I stilled, watching in befuddlement as Dean quickly ripped my pant leg open with one strong yank. We were both frozen, miserable, and injured, and it had been just about the absolute worst day of my life. Watching Dean Winchester tear my last remaining pair of clothes off my body should _not_ have sent a skitter of awareness racing through me but it absolutely did. Holy hell, but it did. He snapped the knife closed and slipped it in his pocket, frowning at the blood still seeping from the wound. "This is bad, Shiloh. How did you not know about this before we took off down the mountain?"

The anger in his eyes bowled right over my awareness, and I shoved it back into the midst of things I didn't have time to think about right now. "I … turned it off."

His gaze narrowed. "What do you mean, you turned it off?"

I fumbled with the fabric, trying to help him get access to the wound but he batted my hands away impatiently. The heat suddenly kicked on with a loud hum and the vent in the ceiling sent a glorious wave of warmth down on us. A shiver wracked my body and my eyes drifted closed as I basked in the heat flowing over my skin.

"Shiloh, come on, sunshine – don't fall asleep on me again. Shiloh? Hey. Wake up, Shi. Wake up!"

I struggled to lift my arms but they were so heavy. The heat seemed to leach the last of my strength from my muscles. "Can't …" I muttered through numb lips. "So tired …"

" _Sam!_ Get out here!"

Sam's heavy footsteps hurried back toward us. "What happened?"

"I can't keep her awake! We've got to get her out of these wet clothes and get her warm. She might have hypothermia - did you find any blankets?"

"Nothing big enough to help us."

"Extra uniforms? Clothes? _Anything_? Damn it, Sam, we've got to warm her up!"

"I'm trying, Dean! I cranked up the heat—"

"Yeah, and how long is it going to take to heat a building this size to normal temperatures? An hour? I don't want to wait that long, Sammy. This is all our fault. We're supposed to take care of her and what do we do? We lead the son of a bitch right to her house and burn the damn thing to the ground. Can you imagine the ass-kicking Dad would give us? Hell, someone should _still_ kick our asses! Look at her!"

"Stop it." Sam's voice was sharp. "Don't do that. We thought we had cleared our trail, Dean. We were wrong. It happens."

"Dad would've caught it. He would've known—"

"Seriously, Dean? Dad had been hunting for almost twenty years! We aren't going to gain decades of experience overnight! You can't _be_ Dad!"

"Somebody has to! If we make mistakes, people die, Sam. If something like this can happen, we can't afford to see Shiloh again. This is _Shiloh_ , Sammy. Do you have any idea what that would do to us if we lost her?! We handle the monsters so that she can live her life peacefully, that's always been the deal. If all we're doing is bringing that danger back to her then I don't ever want to see her again." Silence rang out and the only sound was the heating vent faithfully pushing out its warmth. Dean's hands came back to my jeans and he wrestled the frozen fabric to unbutton and unzip them. When he finally spoke, his tone had cooled. "We have to get her warm and get her stitched up. As soon as she's back on her feet … we'll make sure she's safe and has somewhere to go. But we won't be coming back to see her."

"Dean…" Sam sighed in frustration.

"No, Sam. She's our priority. What we want comes second to that, always. We're done talking about it. We don't have the time to wait for the thermostat to catch up, she needs to be warm _now_. Start a fire."

Their silence as they both moved about their tasks sent me deeper into the hazy darkness trying to pull me under. 

The sharp crackle of flames brought me awake with a snap. It was burning, everything was burning all around us and I couldn't get away. I thrashed against the weight that was holding me immobile.

"Easy! Shiloh, take it easy!"

"Fire, everything's on fire!" I fought harder and sharp arcing pain raced through my thigh.

"Stop, look!" Dean's arms tightened around me and kept me pressed against him. He held me still, his calm murmurs fighting back the panic rising up within my throat. "See? It's fine. It's just a little fire to get you warm. Sam's got it under control, Shi. Take a breath, you're all right."

Sam was on his feet, hands held out over tall flames jumping in a metal trash can. A steady warmth escaped it and heated our small corner of the room. Heat was also still coming down from the vents but the room felt no warmer than when we had first arrived. A shiver wracked through me and Dean pulled me closer. I realized that we were skin to skin with a bare minimum of clothing between us. An oversized black button up with the bar's logo on the pocket was draped over me but didn't cover much.

Dean pressed a feather light kiss to my bare shoulder. "You all right, now? That fire isn't going anywhere. It's just going to keep us warm."

His heat slowly sank into my skin and I leaned my head back against his shoulder. He slowly dragged his scruffy beard along the side of my neck and pressed another barely there kiss to my shoulder. "Just lay still, sunshine. We'll get you warm." He started rubbing his hands along my arms to try and get my blood flowing. Sam watched us carefully as he broke apart another chair and started feeding the wooden pieces into the fire. The flames jumped even higher for a moment, reflecting in the glass of the front window.

Bits and pieces of their conversation from before started drifting back into my thoughts. "Dean."

He rumbled a questioning noise deep in his chest.

"Quit beating yourself up."

He grunted.

"I'm serious. None of this is your fault."

He didn't answer but I could feel the muscle jump in his jaw against my forehead.

"Sam." I raised my voice to be heard over the crackle of the flames. "Has he been a grump the whole time I was out?"

A small smile softened Sam's expression. "Yep."

"It's because he never did get the rest of that pie."

Dean muttered several choice words under his breath. "Gee. Great. Thanks for making this so much better. I had forgotten about the pie. Let's just add it to the growing list of things that can't be replaced because of a fire that _I_ started."

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. "Drama queen. I can make you more pie."

His left hand shifted from my arm to my exposed thigh and he played with the edge of the bandage distractedly. When he finally spoke his voice was low, barely more than a rumble. "I _am_ sorry, Shi. If I had known—"

"If you could tell the future then Sam would probably be hunting you as a witch," I cut him off shortly. "You can't control everything, Dean. Shit happened. There's nothing we can do about it now but move forward." I finished my little rant and settled back more deeply into his hold. God, I was tired. And sore. And cold. I had no home to go home to and no books to take away the sting of my losses. But I had Sam and Dean. We had made it through the storm and we were all fairly in one piece. Now, if that fire would just take the damn chill out of the air—

The bell jangled as the front door slammed open, letting in a frigid blast of air that sucked all of the warmth out of the entire room and doused the fire.

Dean dumped me to the side and he and Sam lurched toward the bulky figure stumbling in the doorway. Dean tackled the figure and threw them against the wall, his arm at their throat. "Who are you?!"

Sam wrestled the door shut and moved to stand protectively between me and the stranger, fists clenching at his sides. Son of a bitch. I realized we had no weapons. We were lucky to have made it out of the cabin with shoes, let alone any of the weapons I had hidden all around the house. And Sam and Dean – their stockpile was buried in Baby and probably beneath a few feet of snow at this point on the side of the road. Looks like we were going to have to handle this threat old school.

"Answer me!" Dean roared, muscles flexing as he threw the figure harder against the wall.

The hood slid back off the stranger's face revealing blond hair and bright blue eyes filled with shock. He stared over Dean's shoulder at me where I sat huddled on the floor, shivering nakedly beneath the scant cover of the uniform. His gaze shot back to the boys and he slowly raised his hands in an effort at peace. The man's voice was calm and steady and his question was directed at me. "Are you all right?"

"Don't you talk to her," Dean hissed in his face. "You're talking to _me_ , asshole."

The blond giant stared evenly into Dean's eyes and the tension in the room rose. "Shiloh, answer me. Do you need me to take these two guys down?"

The question jogged something in my sluggish memory and I tilted my head at him doubtfully. "…Connor?"


	6. Toe to Toe

Dean shot me a look over his shoulder, adrenaline pumping color into his face and deepening the red of his wind burned cheeks. "You know him?"

I struggled to answer the question. I knew Connor but not well enough to solidly plant myself between him and the boys as a buffer. My hesitation had Dean's grip tightening on Connor's jacket. "…His name is Connor Garretty. He lives in town. We've … run into each other a few times."

Connor's wary assessment of the situation grew more cautious at my careful phrasing. "Shiloh, you can trust me. I can take them both down if you're here against your will—"

"I'd like to see you try," Dean growled.

I weighed the situation we were in and a quick glance out the window confirmed that the blizzard was still roaring through and had grown to white-out conditions. "Let him go, Dean."

"But Shi!" Dean threw a furious glance over his shoulder and our eyes connected.

I straightened as much as I could and pulled the black button up tighter against my body, wrapping my arms around my waist. God, but I must look a mess. I tried to project a calm that I wasn't feeling. "Let him go. He's probably right – he could kick both your asses."

Dean huffed at the insult. "Oh, please!"

Without a word Connor broke Dean's hold on his neck and sent him stumbling back several feet. Connor straightened to his full height and stacked up close to Sam's 6'4". Dean was back on his feet in a moment with Sam at his side but Connor held up his hands.

"Look, I'm not trying to start something. If she's cool with you two then I am, too. But if you two are the reason that she's got a broken nose, no clothes, and is still currently bleeding on the floor then this conversation is going to be real short and neither of you will remember much of it in the morning. Are we clear? I'm just trying to make sure she's okay."

Dean snarled something unintelligible but held his ground, shifting on his feet protectively.

Connor rolled his shoulders in frustration and gave me a hard look. "Tell me the truth, Shiloh. Are you in danger?"

The testosterone in the room was starting to get stifling. I hitched the shirt up higher, unable to fight back a shiver as the cold air pebbled my skin. "No. They're my family, Connor. They saved me from the thing that did …" I gestured toward myself. "This."

Connor's big hands curled into fists. "Did they take care of it for good?"

I weighed my response. It wasn't worth going into the whole explanation and I certainly didn't know him well enough to tell him the truth. I lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "Yeah, it's dead." At least the poor man that demon had possessed certainly was. Six bullets to the head would do that.

His eyebrow lifted at my choice of pronouns but he let it slide. "Good."

Silence fell as everyone waited tensely for the other to make a move as the chill of the floor slowly leached the bit of warmth Dean had shared from my body. Connor finally broke the silence, his deliberate question warning me that there were many more to come. "Where did you get attacked?"

"My cabin."

"How did you get down here? Your truck's not out front. Though I was barely able to see the flames in the window, I guess I could've missed it. The flames were why I stopped. Mick has worked way too hard for this place to let some electrical short from the storm make it go up in flames." His gaze tracked to the smoking coals in the trash can and the broken chairs off to the side and he winced. "Was that really necessary? The heat's working, isn't it? It's not _that_ cold in here."

"She's hypothermic, asshole." Dean snapped, pressing closer to my side but keeping his full attention on Connor. "We had to hike—"

Connor's gaze snapped back to mine. "What?! You hiked from your cabin? That's almost twelve miles, Shiloh – why would you hike _into_ the storm?!"

Why did he know how far my cabin was? He had certainly never been there. "How do you know where I live?"

Dean latched onto my growing caution. "You better have a damn good answer for that, Garretty."

Connor's intensity didn't waver. "It's a small town. People talk. You and your dad have lived there for years, Shiloh. It's common knowledge."

Dean grunted in disapproval and I reached out and squeezed his bare calf reassuringly. I glanced up at him and realized he was back down to boxers. We had been skin to skin when I woke up because he was trying to warm me up with his body heat. Not that he had much to give. A shiver shook me.

Connor's gaze dropped to the small contact and his eyebrows pinched. "Shiloh, why don't you tell me what's really going on here?"

"Why don't you just hop back in your truck and scurry on your merry way? You've done your good deed, the bar isn't in danger and we've got Shi taken care of. She doesn't need your help." Dean's calf muscle jumped beneath my touch.

"Look, buddy, she says she's with you two, fine. I'm not going to argue. But like hell I'm going to walk out that door and leave her in your hands when the only explanation I've been given is that you all killed some _thing_ up that mountain and the three of you chose to hike twelve miles in a _snowstorm_ just for kicks. None of this makes a lick of sense so excuse me for being concerned for a friend."

"A _friend_? You seem awfully concerned for a _friend_." Dean snapped and I tightened my hold warningly on his leg.

"Can we save the pissing contest for later? It's getting really c-cold in here." A shiver interrupted my request.

Connor started toward me and both Sam and Dean quickly moved to stand between us protectively. "You've done enough here. Your grand entrance put out the fire, asshole. We've been trying to get her warm for almost an hour and now all the heat in here is completely gone."

Connor lifted his chin and all three males squared up. "What does she need? My truck is right outside, I have blankets and a first aid kit in my cab. Just tell me what I can do to help."

Sam finally spoke up, his tone even. "We need as many blankets as you have and the first aid kit. An extra pair of clothes, too, if you have them."

Dean threw him a sharp glance but fell silent. Connor gave a sharp nod and headed back toward the front door. "Wait," Dean barked. The shivers were starting to rattle my bones and I fought to sit still as Dean settled beside me on the floor again. He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his lap, tagging the button up shirt higher on my chest. Once he had me mostly protected and beneath as much cover as possible he jerked his head at Connor.

Without a word, Connor tugged open the door and darted through it, trying to minimize the arctic blast that roared through the opening and sucked even the memory of heat from the room. My teeth started to chatter and I leaned deeper into Dean's hold, desperately trying to leach whatever warmth from him I could. Blankets. Connor was bringing blankets. I held tight to that thought as Sam hustled to get the fire going again.

Dean's hold around me tightened as the shivering worsened. "Sorry," he murmured quietly into my hair. "I'll kick his ass later."

"He's—not a bad – guy. Don't really know him." I bit out shortly, tucking my head against the side of his neck. "But he took care of – some grabby guys – I ran into one time."

Dean stiffened. "Grabby?"

I patted his chest lightly, my fingers finding their way over his tattoo. "No big deal. They're usually – harmless."

"What do you mean, _usually_?" He growled, fingers digging into my skin.

The door shoved open again, saving me from having to answer. I gritted my teeth against the ache in my bones as the wind whistled and the frigid air swept in to settle against my skin cold. My leg had been throbbing dully but struck up a noisy protest with the fresh drop in temperature. Connor lumbered in with his arms full, kicking the door shut roughly and dropping his back against it to make sure it shut. He shook his head and the hood dropped back off his head, revealing ice crystals on his eyebrows and eyelashes and a dusting of white in his blonde stubble. Sam went over to him warily but Connor offered his armful without protest.

Sam took it all without a word and Connor stomped the snow off his boots before coming farther into the room. He stayed on the outskirts as Sam quickly separated the items he had brought in, tossing the blanket to Dean, setting the first aid kit beside me, and crouching at my feet to slip thick woolen socks over my frigid toes. "Easy, Shiloh. You're starting to get real pale and I don't like it. We're going to get you warm, I swear." He got back to his feet, masking a wince behind a quick reassuring smile.

My attention sharpened and I tried to sit up. "Sam, your ankle—" Damn. I had forgotten he rolled his ankle yesterday on their hike _up_ the mountain. Surely the twelve mile hike down hadn't done it any favors. And then there was the gash on his shoulder—

Sam waved a hand dismissively. "It's fine. Right now we need to worry about you."

"But Sam—"

" _Shiloh_." Dean's no-nonsense tone settled me back down restlessly.

"You're b-both overreacting. I d-don't have hypothermia," I muttered in irritation. A painful shiver shook me and Dean tightened his hold. "Hypothermia makes you stupid, you d-do crazy things. I'm just _cold_."

Dean grunted. "I'm not willing to risk it. Sam and I have always been warm-blooded. You… there's not enough of you to warm yourself back up. And with the blood loss—" Dean shifted the blanket over me so the temporary bandage on my leg was visible. He gently ran his hand over the backside of my thigh where the demon's knife had penetrated deeply. His fingers came away wet with blood and he winced. "Sam, get the fire going. We need to sterilize the needle so we can stitch her up quick. She went through another three layers of bandages." He shot a begrudging glance at Connor. "Thanks. I couldn't find anything around here to get her sewn up."

Connor tipped his head in acknowledgement, concern creasing his brow as he watched me.

I lifted my chin above the blanket so my voice would carry to him. "You should g-go before you get stuck here."

Connor shook his head, arms crossing over his chest. "No way. Not until I know you're all right." He held his position and kept a steady watch as Sam stoked the fire back to roaring and Dean kept the blanket tucked tightly around me, my forehead resting against his neck. One arm was wrapped around my back, keeping me braced against him and the other was running restlessly over me, tracing the curve of my arm through the blanket, sliding down along my hip. His fingertips kept finding their way to the edges of the makeshift bandage and rubbing along the edges soothingly.

Sam sorted through the first aid kit and pulled out the items that needed sterilized as Connor finally broke his stance to move to his side. Sam assessed him silently for a moment before tilting his head toward us. "Help Dean get her situated. The knife wound is on the back of her thigh."

Connor winced. "Shit. How did you get her down the mountain?"

Dean shifted beneath me. "She hiked the first ten miles. Never said a word."

Connor whistled as he moved to my side. "Damn, Shiloh. I knew you were tough, but that takes it to a whole new level."

Connor reached toward me and Dean threw out an arm, grabbing Connor's wrist with a hard glare. "Sam may have decided you're all right, but my vote is still out. You make one wrong move with her and I will _end_ you." Dean let the words rest heavily in the air as he released him without waiting for a response. He twisted his head so he could look in my eyes. "You ready?"

I nodded shortly as a shiver raced over me.

They tried their best but there weren't a lot of options. There was only one blanket and Connor reluctantly pulled it from my body and Dean tried to keep as much of me covered as possible. Connor stretched the blanket out on the floor and Dean helped me into the oversized thick-lined hoody that Connor had brought in. The sleeves hung well past my hands and the bottom would've hit me mid-thigh but Dean was careful to keep it tucked around my waist and out of their way as he helped me maneuver over the blanket onto my belly. The thick hoody swallowed me and I should've immediately felt warmer but instead all I could feel was the frigid air against my exposed legs. There was a small amount of heat coming off of the fire but all it seemed to do was dissipate into the air. All of my muscles felt like lead and just moving around was making me lightheaded. I finally got to my stomach and folded my arms beneath my head, stifling the moan that wanted to erupt. This sucked, and it was about to get a lot worse.

Sam's voice was calm and steady as he moved into place behind me. "She's already lost a lot of blood. I don't know why she isn't already in shock so we need to be prepared for that to happen. Dean, you and Connor need to hold her down. She's starting to shake pretty hard and I don't want to hurt her more than I have to." I felt his hand on the back of my leg and tried not to flinch away from his icy fingers.

"Sam, you sure you can do this?" Dean asked softly.

I peeked over my shoulder to see Sam sitting back on his heels, flexing his hands with a grimace. My gaze dropped to his busted open knuckles and the stiff, swollen fingers. Dean's were in the same condition. They had both done a number on that demon but it was just one more thing I had overlooked. We needed to get these stitches in so I could start getting back on my feet. They needed taken care of and badly.

"Let Connor," I said roughly.

All three of their heads swung toward me.

"He's w-warm. Has s-steady hands. Won't hurt me." I mustered the energy for a wink. "D-don't let him s-screw up."

Dean ran a soothing hand down my back, struggling with the decision. "You're sure?"

I just nodded and let my eyes drift close. It was warmer somehow, with my eyes closed. I could shut out the white swirling past the windows, could ignore the flames leaping that didn't seem to be giving off any heat, and the fact that every shiver made my entire body ache. All I had to do was lie here and block it all out.

There was a hushed conversation behind me for a few moments before the rustle of movement told me Connor and Sam were switching places. I planted my head against my arms, determined not to move no matter how bad it hurt. But the more determined I was to stay still the faster my teeth started to chatter and the stronger the shivers swept over me. "S-sorry. C-can't get it t-to stop." I muttered into my arms.

Dean pressed a hand gently to the back of my neck, rubbing his thumb along the curve of my shoulder. "Just relax as much as you can. Sam and I will hold you still." Regret was heavy in his tone and I ached to reassure him. This was all wrong. I was supposed to be the caretaker, I was supposed to be their safe home port. When they came to see me no matter how long we had been apart I took it as a point of pride that they always left my cabin more relaxed and in better shape than they arrived. Not only was I _not_ taking care of them, but they were having to disregard their own injuries to take care of mine. If that demon ever was stupid enough to come after us again I was going to tear him apart with my bare hands. This whole situation was bullshit. I—

The first sharp pain of the needle digging through my skin startled an explosion of air through my clenched teeth. Dean's weight came down a little harder on my left side and Sam's hold on me tightened.

"You're all right, sunshine. This will all be over in a few minutes. Just breathe, you're going to be just fine." A soothing stream of nonsense spilled from Dean and I held onto it, focused on it so I could be strong enough to wrestle everything down. I kept pressing back on the pain, forcing it deeper and deeper inside until I could pull in a steady breath to clear my thoughts. I locked the pain down tight and shifted my focus to Dean. The babble of noise from him was unexpected. I never would've thought he'd be one to use words to calm someone. He was more a man of action, of using touch to communicate. I could tell from the distortion of his words that his head was facing away from me, that he had his full attention on Connor's handiwork. Dean had one hand braced on the bare skin of my lower back, spread open for a steady pressure to keep my hips still and the other had a firm grip high on my thigh to keep my leg immobile. Connor was using his legs to keep my calves from twitching with the constant shivers that shook me. Sam copied Dean's pressure on my right.

I had a sudden moment of intense gratefulness that Dean had left my underwear on. God, that would've been embarrassing. I never would've been able to look them in the eyes again. I favored simple boyshorts and cropped cami's so more of me was covered than if I were wearing a bikini but still. Sam and Dean both had a hand placed just below the edge of my boyshorts and low on the bare skin of my back. Nothing about this situation was sexual but a flush of embarrassment filled my face and I tucked it deeper into my arms. Dean was right, I was getting desperate up in the mountains alone if I was thinking about intimacy in a situation like this. I just wasn't one to flaunt myself or my body and living in the mountains led to a practical wardrobe of long layers that kept me covered. No one had ever seen me in my underwear before today and for some reason it hadn't felt awkward when it was just Dean pressed up against me.

I shook away the thoughts. Sure, it was a nice distraction, thinking about Dean. But he was my _brother_. He and Sam were my family and it was simple deprivation of human contact that had me looking at Dean in a new light this trip. And Connor … god, what the hell did Connor think about this whole mess? I barely knew him. We had run into each other a few times at the diner in town on my rare trips down for supplies and he had stepped in once or twice when the guys at the gas station started harassing me.

Two brothers ran the local two-pump gas dump, Virgil and Elam Wilkes. They were the only gas station for miles so everyone in town supported their business but they were the kind of guys that made you wonder if growing up they had kept a third sibling locked in a closet. They always watched every move I made from the moment I drove on their lot to the second I left, often coming out to offer to pump my gas. I had only made that mistake once when we had first moved to the area. On the surface it seemed like a nice gesture but the reality was it kept them standing by my car and in my personal space for entirely too long. Virgil was the older brother that usually stayed behind the counter and only creeped on me when I had to run into the convenience store area for a gas can or a bag of ice. But Elam was the one that made my skin crawl. I was a pretty strong woman and was fully confident I could handle myself, but I had learned there was a fine art to picking battles with locals when I was considered a visitor. Most of the people around here had lived here for generations and still saw me as temporary even though I had been living here for six years. So when Connor had stepped in the night that Virgil and Elam had decided to box me in against my truck and get a little grab happy, I had been nothing but shocked at his intervention. Connor's sheer size and bulk had both the Wilkes men backing down and sulking back into the shop in a matter of moments and Connor had politely stepped back and introduced himself. We had exchanged a few words and then each gone our separate ways. Our paths had crossed a few times and we had shared a table once or twice at the diner when it was busy but beyond that I barely knew him. He had been polite and kept an eye out for me occasionally and had willingly gone head to head with both Sam and Dean when he thought I was in danger.

Sam and Dean weren't people you messed with. They both had that vibe that warned you they weren't above getting their hands dirty if the situation warranted it. They were both beginning to get that hard edge that John had always had and a big part of me was sad to see it. They hadn't had much of a childhood as it was but there had been moments of carefree laughter and lightheartedness. It seemed like every time they came to see me their eyes were harder and their protective shells a bit slower to let down. I didn't want them both to grow up into the hard man that John had always been.

Connor going toe to toe with them both was no small gesture and he had held firm beneath the full weight of the boys' defense. I grudgingly admitted that there might be more to him than I had initially thought.

"There, all finished." Connor tied off the thread and settled back with a deep breath. Awareness rushed back into place, sweeping my thoughts aside as pain flooded my system at the break in my concentrated effort to keep it at bay.

Sam and Dean both released their hold on me with their own deep breaths of relief. Sam patted me reassuringly with a sweaty palm.

"Okay." Dean murmured, his fingers brushing through my hair soothingly. "Okay, now we just need to get you warm."

"Why is it so blasted _cold_ in here?" Connor got to his feet, prowling around the room to check the heating vents. "You turned the thermostat on when you got here, didn't you?"

I could almost hear Sam rolling his eyes. "Of course we did. It was just taking too long to warm her up."

"Then why isn't there heat coming out of these vents?"

Dean stiffened, his hand pausing in my hair. "What?"

Sam moved over by Connor. "Son of a bitch! Dean, they're blowing cold air. Something must have happened to the furnace. There's no heat."

Connor swore beneath his breath. "That fire isn't going to be able to heat this whole room. There's an open hallway and stairwell that goes down to the basement and it's going to keep funneling cold air up here."

"Damn it!" Dean got to his feet and I tentatively rolled to my side. Great Gatsby's ghost – how the hell could the knife wound hurt _more_ now that it was closed? And now that I was unrestrained the shivers were starting to shake through me constantly, beginning to feel more like a muscle seizure than anything. "We've got to get her somewhere warm."

"Every place in town is dark." Connor told them flatly. "They gave a winter storm warning and told everyone to stay indoors and shut down the shops around noon today. There hasn't been anyone in town for hours. We're going to have to go back to my place."

Dean fell silent and I could see the struggle on his face.

Sam ran his hands through his hair anxiously. "How far is it?"

"A few miles. It might take us a while depending on how much has fallen since I've been in here but we should be able to make it. The heater is warm in the truck as long as it's moving. No matter how long it takes, that's got to be better than this."

Sam looked to Dean for the final decision.

Dean simply nodded his head.


	7. Drive

The cab of Connor's truck was roomy for one person. Heck, probably even for two. Four was a bit of a squeeze. When Dean landed in the middle of the bench seat because he was the smallest of the boys, I knew we were going to have some problems. The amount of shoulder-width currently contained in this cab was ridiculous, and the levels of tension matched. Dean had given up trying to fit comfortably and dropped his arms back behind the seat and eased his shoulders behind both Connor and Sam. I had ended up nestled on Sam's legs because he had the most lap to spare. He held me loosely and my legs were stretched across all three of their laps, and I couldn't stop shivering despite the heat blowing full blast. The dampness of the ice and snow beginning to melt off Sam and Dean's clothing was seeping into my borrowed sweatpants. The pant legs had been rolled up several times and still my sock-clad feet barely peeped out beneath the hem. All three of the boys had half their attention on me and the other half on the road conditions, and weight of their worry had killed a few aborted attempts at conversation. Our progress was painstakingly slow. The chains on the tires made a heavy thumping noise every time they broke into the icy layer forming on the top, gaining us the traction we needed to inch toward Connor's home.

A shiver rattled through me and Sam settled a hand calmingly on my knee. "How you feeling?" Sam murmured against my hairline.

"How are _you_ f-feeling?" I questioned back softly but Dean's attention zeroed in. "Your ankle is p-probably the size of a watermelon, i-isn't it?"

He gently squeezed my knee. "I'm fine, Shi. Dean and I are tough, we deal with this stuff all the time."

"What, g-getting hurt? Bullshit."

He winced playfully. "Yeah, okay, fine. Usually we're smart enough not to get hurt in the first place."

"What exactly is it that you two do?" Connor piped up and I could feel Dean stiffen. Sam's hold on my leg tightened.

"We're hunters." Dean answered shortly.

"Like, professionally? There's some big game around, but you'd have to get a guide and go much farther up in the mountains for that. We get the occasional bobcat and wolf around here, but not much else."

"We came to see Shiloh. We weren't working."

Connor shot me an assessing glance before turning his attention back to the road. "So you two are her brothers?"

"Not quite," Dean grunted at the same time that Sam responded, "Correct."

Connor's head tilted in question but neither of the brothers bothered to clarify. "Shiloh?" Connor pressed.

"They're f-family." I said firmly, tucking my hands deeper into the oversized sleeves of his hoody. The silence stretched out as he waited for me to elaborate but I just rested my head back against Sam's shoulder and let my statement hang. I didn't owe Connor anything and I still wasn't quite sure what to make of his sudden appearance and willingness to help.

Connor dropped one hand from the wheel to gently squeeze my socked foot. "I'm just trying to understand what's going on," he said softly.

Dean straightened in the seat defensively, his attention lasered in on Connor's hand touching me. His change in position crowded the entire cab and Sam tucked his long arms around me and braced his elbows to keep me from getting jostled too badly.

"Relax, Dean," Sam muttered in irritation.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes and instead reached out and rested my unsteady hand on Dean's chest, giving him a small comforting pat with an eloquent lift of my eyebrows. But Dean was still staring at Connor's fingers gently rubbing my foot, and I saw his shoulders stretch as if he was struggling to keep his arms behind the seat so that we would all fit in the shrinking cab. I snagged my fingertips in the edge of his flannel and tugged until Dean's attention shifted to me reluctantly.

 _Calm down_ , I mouthed at him and his lips tightened defensively, his gaze shooting to Connor's hand still stroking my foot. The socks were so thick I could hardly feel it, and to be fair my feet were resting in his lap and there weren't a lot of places for him to rest his hands. My distracted rationalization for allowing the personal touch came to an abrupt halt as something outside the truck popped loudly. The truck lurched to the left and Connor jerked the wheel, struggling to straighten the tires back out. His jaw tightened and his entire attention shifted to the road conditions outside. He showed no signs of stopping and Dean shifted his legs.

"Your driver side tire blew," Dean said flatly.

Connor ignored him. The thumping sound of the flat tire and the slack chains smacking into the icy snow filled the cab.

"You're going to ruin the rim," Dean insisted. "Don't be a dumbass. Just pull over. _I_ can change a tire in the snow—"

"No spare." Connor said quietly.

"Oh for the love of –" Dean's head dropped forward, his eyes closed in frustration. "Seriously? You take off in the middle of a blizzard without—"

"We're only a mile out from the house." Connor interrupted calmly.

Dean shot me a look that said far more than words could have, and I could almost see the tension building between them. "You'll ruin the rim. You could bust the axle—"

"I'm aware of the risks." Connor responded, hands flexing on the wheel. "I'm also aware of the risks to Shiloh if we get stuck out here. I'd rather replace my truck than put her in danger. We're not stopping."

Sam shifted beneath me and I could almost hear his brain taking in Connor's statement and reassessing the blond giant. Dean just fell quiet and the silence grew strained, broken only by the rhythmic thud of the shredded tire. I stared at Connor, trying to puzzle him out. We barely knew each other. We were acquaintances, at best. There was absolutely no reason why he should care so much about my safety. Sure, he had stumbled into The Peak and found me in a questionable situation and was concerned. I could rationalize that as common decency and the fact that we were in the midst of a rather bizarre situation as it was, and Connor had decided to handle the situation to the best of his ability. But this? Willing to wreck his truck so that I got somewhere safely? There was no explanation for that and suspicion started to niggle at the back of my thoughts. No one's common decency stretched that far.

It felt like hours had passed when Connor finally slowed to a stop and cut the engine. He rested his forearms on the wheel and flexed his hands, shaking out the tension. "We're here." Connor grabbed the garage door opener from his visor and hit the button. He hit it again insistently, peering out into the snow. His eyes drifted closed and he took in a deep breath that made his chest expand and his shoulders widen, crowding the rest of us even more. Connor released the breath with a sigh and put the garage door opener back on the visor slowly. "The electric is out. We need to get into the house and get a fire going and then I'll worry about getting the truck into the garage."

Sam shifted me on his lap. "I'll help you with that. After we get her warmed up."

"I'm fine," I grumbled, trying to shift so that the guys could get out without my feet in their faces. A rush of pain caught me unprepared and I stoically shoved it back in the corner where it belonged. They were worrying enough as it was. I was fine now. As soon as we got in that house, it was time for me to quit bellyaching and put my focus where it belonged – on taking care of the boys.

* * *

Hello my lovelies! First, I AM SO SORRY. A four month delay in putting out a new chapter is simply unacceptable and I sincerely apologize. I was planning to add more to this one but I'd rather give you all signs of life and cut it a mite short than wait any longer! Due to regular life circumstances, I haven't been able to bury myself in fanfic and writing hardly at all this summer but hopefully I'm on the far side of those circumstances and can get back to what I love - writing! Which means you, my dear wonderful readers, shall hopefully have more story coming soon! Thanks for hanging in there with me and I'd love to hear your thoughts!


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